11/395 Meter Maid

When the town is too big
for its memories,
poorly planned
its streets congested
and lined with sidewalks
parallel parking
and newly-planted saplings
where the old elms once gave shade
There is a cycle of negative feedback
motion of unfortunate political wheels
fiscal year projections
meetings and proposals
a vote of ayes, nays, and abstentions
followed by months of red tape and contract bidding
before the meters are installed
First along Main Street
then tributaries
The parking attendants
roam the street
rain or shine
doling out misery
at taxpayer expense.
No one asked for this.
This is the first sign
that our democracy is a myth.
Outside family businesses
with generations of history,
shops that have boasted
of service with a smile,
the parking lot signs warn,
"violators will be towed"
The parks close at sundown,
Public space is constrained,
and a quaint small town
becomes inhospitable.

They tell us this is progress.
This is the way of civilization
Convincing us to pay for
what has always been free:
our water, air, occupation of small spaces.

We believe the meter maid
It is clearly our own fault
There for two minutes too long
The signs were posted
Once she starts writing the ticket
it's too late,
slipping more progress beneath a wiper blade.

They begin to mourn:
the empty storefronts downtown
the loss of community
the graffiti and urbanization
They blame the economy
and the big box stores
at the edge of town,
those enemies of community
with their bright lights,
their reasonable prices
and their ample free parking.
Shaking fists at the strip malls
while padding gaps the new budget
with a fresh bank of meters
to be installed next month
on a formerly quiet residential street.
Wondering all the while
what happened to their idyllic small town.